The Problem with Tomatoes
by liebedance
Summary: Michael Corner just really does not like tomatoes. There's no way around it. Part of Thanfiction's DAYDverse, but you do not need to be familiar with it to enjoy this story!


Author's Note: This is part of the DAYDverse. DAYD stands for _Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness_ by thanfiction (his ff dot net penname). It is a truly amazing work that follows Neville through his seventh year at Hogwarts. While you can read this not having read _Year of Darkness_, I would highly suggest reading it as well as all the other works by thanfiction.

Disclaimer: JKR gave them being and names. Andy (thanfiction) gave them personalities and histories. As for me? I'm just giving them this scene.

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"No 'matoes," Michael screamed from his high chair, "No 'matoes, no 'matoes, no 'matoes!"

"But, Mikey," Elaine Corner said in an attempt to reason with her three year old, "Tomatoes are good for you. They will make you grow big and strong, like your Daddy!"

"Daddy doesn't eat 'matoes," Michael argued, his eyes wide in shock that his mother could suggest such ridiculous things.

"Of course your father eats tomatoes, Mikey," she answered. Michael looked at her doubtfully and she sighed. She knew she ought to be used to having arguments over food with her toddler, it was quite common, but it always astounded her how Michael demanded logical reasons and proof. He truly was a special child.

"Do you want me to prove to you that Daddy eats tomatoes?" Michael nodded. Elaine smiled and walked out of the kitchen, returning a few moments later with her husband. Michael looked at his parents expectantly.

"So, son," Lionel said, sitting down in a chair and facing the young boy, "What are you refusing to eat?"

"'Matoes," Michael replied.

"But tomatoes are good for you! They are full of healthy things you need to grow big and strong!"

"Daddy eat 'matoes?" Michael asked doubtfully.

"Of course I eat tomatoes!" Lionel exclaimed, "I'm big and strong, aren't I?" Michael didn't answer but looked at his father expectantly. Lionel sighed, "Do you want me to prove to you that I eat tomatoes?"

"Yes," Michael answered, "Mommy said you eat 'matoes; you say you eat 'matoes. Never seen you eat 'matoes. If you don't eat 'matoes, then I don't need to eat 'matoes." Lionel sighed.

"Elaine, dear," he said to his wife, "Could you please give me some of Mikey's tomatoes?" Elaine smirked at her husband as she walked over to the counter and put some tomatoes on a plate.

"Here you go, darling," she said, handing him the plate, "Show Mikey how big boys eat tomatoes." Lionel closed his eyes in determination as he lifted a slice of tomato to his mouth. How he _detested_tomatoes. He put the tomato into his mouth and, willing himself not to show the displeasure on his face, chewed and swallowed.

"See, Mikey," He said to his son with a smile, "Daddy eats tomatoes!"

"But Daddy didn't like it," Mikey said, perceptive as ever, "And that means that I won't like them. No 'matoes!" Elaine and Lionel exchanged a look they'd shared several times before. They loved their son and wouldn't want him any other way. But sometimes it was so hard to have such a smart child.

***

Michael had never experienced dinner quite like the first dinner he had at Terry's house the Easter break of his first year. There was nothing wrong with food, per se, and he couldn't say that Terry's parents weren't _friendly_. It was just that he had never, not even with the various dinner parties his parents had thrown throughout his childhood, experienced a dinner atmosphere so unbelievably _tense_. Michael could tell that Terry as just as uncomfortable as he was, even if the young boy didn't show it, and he wondered if meals at the Boot household were always so stiff, or if it was simply a result of him being there.

"Mr. Corner," Hector Boot started, "I hope you find this meal to be sufficiently adequate. I am well aware that it is nothing like the grandeur of Hogwarts meals, but I'd hoped you'd like it."

"Yes, sir," Michael answered nervously, feeling as though he were being tested. He looked down at the tomato salad that was left on his plate and glanced at Terry quickly. His friend didn't return the look, but rather sat very straight and still with his eyes fixed on his empty plate. Michael turned back to Terry's father and forced a smile, "It's very good. Thank you."

"I can't help but notice that you did not eat your salad," Ismene noted, "Was there something wrong with it?"

"No, Ma'am," Michael answered, trying once again to catch Terry's eye, "I'm just quite full from the rest of the meal."

"Mike doesn't like tomatoes, mother," Terry said quietly, not looking up from his plate, "I believe I mentioned that to you."

"Oh," Ismene replied, "I must have forgotten. There have been many things on my mind recently, Tiresius. I cannot possibly remember every detail you tell me about each of your classmates."

"It's okay," Michael said, "I understand."

"And, you know," Hector said, looking at Michael over his glasses, "Tomatoes are an excellent source of nutrients. Surely your parents have told you that."

"Yes, sir," Michael answered.

"May we be excused, Mother?" Terry asked, standing up suddenly, "I want to make sure Mike knows where everything is. It's been quite a long day; the train ride from school was tiring."

"Yes, of course, son," Ismene replied, "Don't stay up too late. You have school work to do tomorrow and your father and I have gotten you a new book to read." Terry nodded and hurried out of the room. With a quick 'thank you' to Terry's parents, Michael followed his friend, eager to escape the tense conversation brought on by a simple vegetable.

***

"I am not entirely sure I understand what it is precisely about tomatoes that you find so completely disagreeable," Terry remarked his friend as they sat in the Great Hall eating lunch.

"I know I haven't seen you in two months, Terry," Mike answered, not taking his eyes from the tomatoes that had somehow ended up on his plate, "But we've been best friends for four years and you're supposed to be a Ravenclaw. Figure it out. I just don't _like_ them."

"What don't you like?" Mike and Terry turned to see Luna Lovegood looking at them, a curious expression on her face.

"Tomatoes," Mike answered slowly, unsure as ever as how to respond to the quirky girl.

"Why not?" Luna asked, sitting down next to him and piling potatoes onto her plate.

"Nobody knows," Terry answered, "It is quite the mystery. In my opinion, tomatoes are really a fine vegetable…"

"…although really, they are a fruit. That is something that many people have…"

"…argued over, yes. But as to why he doesn't like them. "

"I just never have…"

"His father doesn't like them either. It is possible that he passed the distaste onto Mike…"

"…either through some hereditary dislike…"

"…or by demonstrating it. But as to whether the cause is due to nature or nurture…"

"…we may never know. Let us simply accept the fact that…"

"…he refuses to eat them."

"Oh," Luna said, almost absently, "Well, I suppose that's okay then. I've never much liked tomatoes either. My daddy says that eating too many tomatoes can draw wrackspurts to you. I guess we are similar in that way, Michael."

Mikes eyes grew wide in fear and Terry bit his lip, trying to hold back a laugh as his friend drove a fork into the largest tomato wedge on his plate and stuck it into his mouth.


End file.
